Out of this World
by velja
Summary: Set during Snape's death scene in Deathly Hallows. Instead of giving Harry his memories Snape gives him insight to all the emotions he's had over the years for Harry. And Harry finally understands. Not quite slash but... nearly. Warning: Character Death.


**Out of this world**

by velja

**This story just came to my mind when I was listening to the song "Out of this World" by BUSH. The lyrics simply screamed "Snape's death scene" to me and so I wrote this. **

**The story begins with Snape being bitten by Nagini (that part I took from the original "HP and the Deathly Hallows") but then Snape doesn't give Harry his memories but he gives him insight to his emotions through the years.**

**I hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

Voldemort's cold voice rang through the Shrieking Shack:

"The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine."

And Voldemort swiped the air with the Elder Wand. It did nothing to Snape, who for a split second seemed to think he had been reprieved: but then Voldemort's intention became clear. The snake's cage was rolling through the air, and before Snape could do anything more than yell, it had encased him, head and shoulders, and Voldemort spoke in Parseltongue.

"Kill."

There was a terrible scream. Harry saw Snape's face losing the little color it had left, it whitened as his black eyes widened, as the snake's fangs pierced his neck, as he failed to push the enchanted cage off himself, as his knees gave way, and he fell to the floor.

"I regret it," said Voldemort coldly and turned away, no sadness in him, no remorse. He swept from the room without a backwards glance, and the great serpent floated after him in its huge protective sphere.

Harry did not know why he was doing it, why he was approaching the dying man: he did not know what he felt as he saw Snape's white face, and the fingers trying to staunch the bloody wound at his neck. Harry took off the Invisibility Cloak and looked down upon the man he hated, whose widening black eyes found Harry as he tried to speak. Harry bent over him; and Snape seized the front of his robes and pulled him close.

* * *

_**  
When we die  
We go into the arms of those who remember us  
We are home now**_

* * *

Harry felt himself being pulled down over the dying man, he felt Snape's stale breath upon his face, stale and bloody and already decayed, as a terrible rasping, gurgling noise issued from Snape's throat:

"You… need to… know…"

And then something silvery blue was gushing from Snape's mouth along with the blood, neither gas nor liquid, and surrounded Harry, swirling around his head and into it through his nose and mouth, it was in his eyes and ears and filled him completely.

At first Harry thought it was a memory, that Snape wanted to give him a memory of his own, but then…

Then Harry suddenly felt like he was being yanked away from Snape's body in a rush of power, his fingers that had clutched Snape's blood-stained robes only seconds before, grasped nothing but air and he felt like swirling around, like falling into a Pensive but completely different at the same time. Blood rushed in Harry's ears and colors swirled in front of his eyes, faster than anything he'd ever seen and he felt nausea coming up. Harry closed his eyes and let out a panicked gasp while he tried to will down the bile rising in his throat.

And then it was over.

The swirling movement stopped and left Harry lying flat on his back, blood pumping and pulse beating erratically through his veins.

Harry opened his eyes and saw nothing but thick, white mist, everywhere around him and on his face, he could feel the cold damp fog settling on his skin, turning it clammy and rolling in moist wisps down his cheeks like silent tears.

* * *

_**  
Out of our heads  
Out of our minds  
Out of this world  
Out of this time**_

* * *

Harry sat up slowly and turned his head frantically in order to see something other than the thick mist. But his surroundings seemed to be impenetrable, white fog was all he could make out. Harry noticed that the nausea had passed and something else had started to settle in his stomach. It was a queasiness of other sorts, a feeling of slight unease, but pleasant at the same time, like he knew something was to come, something profound and inevitable, and he was dreading and anticipating it at the same time.

And somehow he knew with perfect clarity then what this place was. The fog, the impenetrable wavering around him…

Harry didn't know how he knew this or why he was so sure about it, but… this was Snape's mind. Not the dying man's memories but really truly his conscious mind.

And somehow it made perfect sense for Harry to be there. Precisely in his moment of death he'd entered Snape's mind and Harry knew the feelings inside him were not his own, it were Snape's feelings, Snape's emotions and unconscious sense he was experiencing.

Odd, but perfectly logical for Harry.

Out of the corner of his eyes he noticed the fog clearing slowly to make way for something, someone approaching. The blurry figure was far away at first but swept closer quickly, too quickly for it to be moving on its own feet. It seemed like it was sweeping through the fog, gliding towards him a few inches over the ground.

It was a child.

Harry felt a sudden wave of hot anger wash over him at the sight of the small boy who was quickly approaching.

* * *

_**Are you drowning or waving?  
I just want you to save me  
Should we try to get along?  
Just try to get along**_

* * *

It was himself, Harry, eleven-years old and dressed in his School robes, glasses slightly crooked on his face and black hair messier than ever.

It was Harry like Snape had seen him for the very first time, on the day, so many years ago, he'd fist come to Hogwarts.

And the anger settled in the older Harry's stomach, burning like a low steady fire. So this was what Snape had been feeling when they'd first met, anger, seething hatred but also some kind of odd curious wonderment.

While Harry was still trying to process all the feelings that rushed through his body, he noticed that the boy-Harry had finally stopped gliding towards him. He was standing a few feet away now, or rather floating in air, obviously not seeing the older version of himself. Instead he seemed to be living in his own small world, talking and laughing, frowning and crying… and then he was gone.

The substantial younger version of himself had vanished into thin air and instead Harry was suddenly surrounded by images of his life. He saw himself sitting in the great hall, surrounded by his friends, he watched as he walked to different classrooms, a ride on the long Hogwarts stairs, himself running through different corridors, sleeping in bed, sharing the common room with other Gryffindors…

Harry watched every possible step he'd ever made in his life at Hogwarts, everything he'd ever gone through, like a movie playing before his very eyes, a silent movie, filled not with voices and sounds but with emotions.

Emotions that belonged to Snape.

Rushing through Harry's body, through his insides and head, filling every fiber and every vein, were Snape's feelings throughout the years they'd known each other. Anger… annoyance… fury… exasperation… irritation… dread…

And pain.

* * *

_**  
So we move  
We change by the speed of the choices that we make  
And the barriers are all self-made  
That's so retrograde**_

* * *

So much pain. It was a constant companion in everything that played before Harry's eyes.

As he went through the steps of his life Harry couldn't help but laugh at some of the images rushing past, feeling gleeful and smug all of a sudden. Other pictures made him shudder and unwillingly cringe or even shout an unheard warning.

He felt panic and fear clench his heart in an iron grip when the images reached third year and Harry watched a werewolf charge towards him until he was ushered behind his protector.

* * *

_**Are you drowning or waving?  
I just need you to save me  
Should we try to get along?  
Just try to get along**_

* * *

As the years went by Harry could feel the biggest constant he'd experienced so far, the ever-present resentment, gradually fade away, change into something else. It was irritation still, but less and less negatively charged, and in its wake there was room for other, new emotions.

Curiousness… amazement… fascination… and fear.

And then, Harry had reached fifth year and the Pensive-incident, furious embarrassment that turned into a strange kind of gratefulness when Snape's secret stayed with Harry.

Slowly but steadily respect grew inside him and Harry staggered at the sheer amount of it, pushing aside the last lingering feeling of unease and resentment. He wondered why he'd never seen it before, it was all so very clear in his head right now.

The feelings…

"Arrrgh!"

A wave of excruciating pain hit Harry square in his chest, it clutched his lungs and pulled at his insides, it seemed to set him on fire and dowse him in ice-water simultaneously. Harry felt like he was split in two and squeezed together at the same time. His head threatened to explode, colored stars flickered before his eyes, loud and shrill, and he wanted to screw them shut immediately. But what he saw, the images rushing past him and evoking the worst sort of pain he'd ever felt, forced Harry to keep his eyes open.

The Astronomy Tower. Darkness. Rain pouring down. People shouting in the distance. Dumbledore begging with someone. And then… falling.

Blood rushed in Harry's ears and his breath erupted from his lungs in erratic coughs and gasps.

Pain… anguish… misery… hurt… regret… and on top of all: despair.

He was captured in flames, he was on fire, burning from the inside.

He was consumed by it, by the all-encompassing feeling of Snape's despair.

When Harry felt himself finally being pulled into oblivion, into the salvation of unconsciousness, he welcomed it with open arms and at the same time… he understood.

* * *

_**  
I am alive  
I'm awake to the trials of confusion we create  
There are times when I feel the way we're about to break  
When there's too much to say  
**_

Harry didn't know how long he'd been lying unconsciously on the cold dusty floor of the Shrieking Shack. But when he finally opened his eyes and turned his head towards the unfamiliar sound he was hearing he knew that he could only have been out for a few seconds.

Otherwise Snape, whose rattling labored breathing disturbed the quiet air, would have been long dead.

Snape.

Harry slowly turned onto his hands and knees and crawled over to the dying man. He bent over the gaunt face and found the once so piercing black eyes nearly dull and half-closed.

Harry gulped. He was still so full of Snape's emotions, of feelings he'd never in his life believed the former Potions Master capable of, especially not for him, Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived and multiply-declared bane of his existence.

He didn't notice the tears running down his face, tears for a man he'd hated for seven years. A man that had obviously come to respect him, admire him not for being the Boy-Who-Lived but for being him, Harry.

A man Harry had never cared to understand before, a man he'd loathed for everything he'd done and even more so for something he'd been forced to do despite breaking apart in doing it.

Breaking apart and **still** doing it, that was Severus Snape. Harry finally understood. And he desperately wanted Snape to know that he finally did.

There was so much he wanted Snape to know, so much he needed to say before…

A gurgling cough from Snape pulled Harry from his thoughts at last and he looked once again at the white and bony face with the bloodless lips that were straining to force something out. Harry lifted his hand and cautiously put it onto Snape's cheek.

"I can still feel it, Sir, all of it! And I finally understand. I really do. And I…" Harry's voice broke and he had to gulp again. Two thick tears ran over his nose and fell down onto Snape's face. Harry wiped them away tenderly and choked out:

"I… I mean… me, too."

With one last ounce of strength Snape managed to curl his thin white lips into what looked like the ghost of a smile, a genuine one, before he coughed up some more blood and then something in the depth of his half-lidded eyes seemed to vanish entirely, leaving them blank and empty.

Harry let out a strangled sob and whispered:

"Thank you, Sir. For everything."

_**  
We are home now  
Out of our heads  
Out of our minds  
Out of this world  
Out of this time**_

* * *

**The End**

**Please let me know what you think, okay? Thanks. **_**  
**_


End file.
